


The Demons Are Not Beside Us

by Servalan



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Consequences, F/M, Gallows Humor, Grief/Mourning, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 08:48:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20005567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servalan/pseuds/Servalan
Summary: Chakotay reacts to the loss of his most beloved, resulting in unintended consequences...





	The Demons Are Not Beside Us

**Author's Note:**

> This and another unrelated work are my first JC ever as well as my first fanfic since the mid ‘80s. 
> 
> This version of Chakotay came from a Book Club discussion about how he would react to KJ’s death. While I maintain the view that he would be stoic for her, this one possible universe version of him was far more fun to write. 
> 
> Thanks to Manalyzer for the quick beta and for all of the encouragement! You are fantastic!
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated.

Captain Chakotay awoke in the middle of the night, sheets tangled, sweat glistening and putrid on his flesh. His hand reached to find the empty cider bottle from the night before. He reasoned he wouldn’t have drank so much if he’d had someone to share it with.

Her memorial service was today. He’d thought about all of the things he could say but could only linger on all of the things he had not. That and thoughts of her last mission to meet for trade with some alien race he’d already forgotten. Her shuttle malfunction. Ensign’s Kim’s frantic attempts to beam her out. The explosion. Darkness. Oblivion. 

He forced himself to put on the dress uniform only because he knew she’d like it. He pulled out another cider from behind the sofa and drank from the bottle. He knew she wouldn’t like that. Fuck it.

He stumbled into the mess hall late, but who was going to say anything? Neelix approached him with a platter of Flemp cookies but one look from him scared the Talaxian away. Good. 

He spoke some empty platitudes, ignoring the hollow looks around him no doubt mirrored in his own. He tuned out the speeches by the senior staff. He knew he had to stay, to set an example for the crew. But he couldn’t. He was about to leave when Harry approached him, tears in his eyes, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I…” The young man faltered. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss. She was respected by all of us, but I know you two were close.”

Something in Chakotay broke. He grabbed the man’s hand from his shoulder and pushed him away.

“You! Ensign Harry “couldn’t get a lock” Kim. Really? That’s interesting coming from you!”

“What?” 

“You couldn’t get a lock.” Chakotay advanced on the wide-eyed ensign, who was backing away, but he was faster. He grabbed the hapless younger man by the hair.

“You couldn’t get a fucking lock!” Tears formed in Chakotay’s eyes but he refused to wipe them away. “You killed her. You fucking killed her!”

“Hey easy,” a soft voice said behind him. Chakotay turned to see the helmsman,  _ her  _ helmsman, he corrected. Lt. Paris had a kind expression on his face but it barely masked his alarm.

“And you. Tommy.” Chakotay drew out the man’s name like he would to a child. “Her little pet project? You kidnapped her. You raped her! She bore your fucking children.” 

“Salamander children. And I wasn’t in control, I don’t really remember...”

“I left them there on the planet. I could have altered them but I didn’t. You filthy animal I’d…”

“Hey!” B’Elanna, Chakotay’s former Maquis comrade and now Paris’ girlfriend interrupted him. “Chakotay,” she said, stepping in between them. “This isn’t you. This isn’t how she’d want you to be.”

It should have soothed him, coming from his oldest friend on board, but the shame and truth of what she said only angered him further.

“Oh B’Elanna? You never liked her, never gave her a chance. She had to prove herself to you. You!”

B’Elanna shook her head silently as the other two men he’d attacked came up to flank her. Chakotay knew he had to stand down. He left abruptly, ignoring the exchanged shocked glances and murmurs behind him.

He’d already relieved Tuvok of his command and confined him to quarters. Just glimpsing the Vulcan reminded him of how easily he had been deceived and he wouldn’t let it happen again. He’d overridden the EMH’s autonomy controls and ejected Seska’s body from the morgue out of the airlock, but not before beating it beyond recognition. He refused a visit from Seven, knowing she’d only remind him of all the attention his Kathryn had given her. Ayala and other former Maquis were quickly promoted to senior positions. He’d keep it a Federation ship for her but he wouldn’t subject himself to anyone questioning his actions. He would grieve in his own way. 

Then the holodeck. He’d used his rank’s privilege to keep holodeck two open for his personal use. Sometimes he’d make love to her after champagne and a sail on Lake George. Other times he’d come up behind her in the ready room, the one place she would  _ never  _ have allowed it, pushing her face down on her desk, her gasping, him trying to feel...anything. She’d always have her hair short in those.

=/\=

_ It’s been six months Chakotay. You’ve got to let her go _ . He told himself this every morning when he awoke, bleary eyed, with the dawning recognition of a dagger in his belly that he could never extract. The cider was long gone. He didn’t care. It never numbed the pain, not really.

He barely functioned, but his former Maquis made sure meals were delivered to his quarters and they took turns briefing him on current ship events. Most days he would even show up on the bridge for a ceremonial duty shift. He’d sit in her chair on parade, a fool drowning inside a ghoul. 

Other days were ones he was not proud. He’d punched Vorik in the face when the man had suggested meditation. He cut power relays on decks eight through eleven, just because he could. It had taken the repair crews days to fix them. Good. He wanted to give them time to focus, to take their minds off of their loss. 

Yesterday Torres, Paris and Kim came to his quarters to express their concern and compassion for him. It might have been genuine, but he angrily tossed them out. That night he’d accessed the bilge tank on deck fifteen and smeared waste throughout the ship. He’d assign them to the cleanup duty tomorrow, he told himself, for it was good to give everyone a distraction. 

What he couldn’t do for himself, he could at least do for the crew.

=/\=

Janeway hovered behind him, phased shifted out of time and space, centimeters close but might as well have been 70,000 light years away. She’d worked every minute of every day to get back to regular reality, ever since the transporter accident that had saved her from the shuttle crash but shifted her to that of an observer on her own ship. All of her attempts so far had failed, but she would never give up. She would do anything to be there for her crew and nothing would stop her.

She was angry with him for destroying her ship, not just the physical damage, but the cruelty inflicted upon her crew. And his meltdown. Suddenly, her heart went out to him. How could she not have seen how much he loved her? How he could not let her go? She quickly reined those feelings in. For his passionate feelings and resulting destructive consequences were precisely why she could never allow him to get close. She had been right all along. 

And so she continued to work alongside him, ceaselessly and single mindedly, never wavering in her duty to get home to Voyager, as he worked endlessly to rid himself of the pain of losing her.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
